


Strangle

by Trojie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin needs something he feels he can't ask Arthur for, so he does it for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangle

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely the fault of Kickflaw, Maggie and Hermette, who are shameless enablers.

Merlin needs air. Every choking gasp he makes is burning through his body, and his spine arches without his permission, trying to drag breaths through his constricted throat.

Every time he does this, he worries. Did he tie the knot too tight? Will Arthur burst in here too late one day to find him like this, starved of air, naked, curled in on himself with his throat squeezed and tied tight and his hands on his cock? Or will he burst in too soon, and see this depraved, filthy thing that Merlin does to himself, that Merlin needs and has never been able to ask him for?

Merlin can't bear to wait and test the squeeze though - as soon as he gets it snug enough to start his vision fuzzing he has to touch himself, _has_ to. Bloodflow is something he's studied, but the logic of it escapes him at times like these - it seems it all goes to his cock, and it's all he can feel - his hands barely belong to him, so he can tell himself it's someone else with their fingers tangled over him in the wetness of sweat and precome. Even his own voice starts to sound like someone else's, urging him on.

The pins and needles start to form in his fingers, sharpness to cut the fog. His adam's apple works against the constriction, and it hurts.

'Please,' he wheezes, and strokes firmer along the slipperiness, fingers clenching convulsively, and the pressure has an edge of pain which brings everything else back into focus, too much for his liking.

He should have tied it tighter. It's not enough. 'Arthur, _please_ ,' he hisses, and if he knows it's him doing it, it's not enough. He needs it tighter. He needs to lose himself. He whines, and drags one hand up from his cock to his neck, meaning to twist his restraint just a little tighter, when suddenly it's done for him.

His vision goes black and colourful in spots. He can't even gasp. His errant hand is placed firmly by his side, his other one taken from his cock and laid down as well. His fingers are numb. He wants to come so badly, it burns.

'You should have trusted me,' Arthur says, stroking Merlin's cock. 'You could have asked, Merlin.'

His hand is now the only thing Merlin can feel, a process rather than a thing - just movement, just slick rough heat like pure friction, a Platonic ideal, while his body boils over with an excess of fiery humours, and Merlin knows with certainty he will pass out soon, it will all go black and he will burn himself out like this, but he strains towards that ending anyway.

'You're gorgeous like this, you know,' Arthur says from somewhere far away, and then the friction is gone and the world is all wet, Neptunean like the oceans around Merlin's cock, and Arthur moans like an earthquake around him, and Merlin comes, and comes, and comes, trying to vocalise his pleasure and pain and gratitude through a closed-off throat.

'That's it,' Arthur mutters as he loosens the knots, fast and fumble-fingered. 'That's it, you're okay, _fuck_ -' and Merlin, coming back to himself, scrabbles for Arthur with tingling fingers desperate to touch, to give back for what he's received.

Tomorrow, the neckerchief will cover the red-purple marks as easily and effortlessly as it made them, but Arthur's expression when he touches the cloth at Merlin's throat will hide nothing at all.


End file.
